


What It Means To Be Mine

by EternallyVague



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Body Horror, F/F, F/M, M/M, Possible Mpreg, Stridercest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-27
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-04 10:51:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternallyVague/pseuds/EternallyVague
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Dave. It occurs to you that you’ve been drugged.</p><p>Your name is Karkat and you're not entirely sure about this.</p><p>Your name is Gamzee and he's all you ever wanted.</p><p>Your name is Sollux and they want to take everything from you.</p><p>(I tagged the main pairings only, but they're probably going to switch around a bit until everyone is settled where they're supposed to be)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Capture

**Author's Note:**

> Your name is Dave. It occurs to you that you’ve been drugged.

Dave is thrown over someone’s shoulder as they walk somewhere quickly. Enough to bounce his tender face against the solid back and his aching ribs against the sharp, digging clavicle. The broken ribs and nose are parting gifts from his last client, he’d wager; though he only remembered the punches that crunched his nose with a hot, sharp blast of pain.

His face feels swollen; his head full of fuzz. When did they drug him? Must have been when he was unconscious.

He feels the rough fabric of the blindfold on his face and the tight metal manacles that bind his wrists and ankles. The binds alert him to where he is; a pleasure house wouldn’t have bothered after he’d been drugged, even with his record. A slave market- Dave has only ever been to one once before, many years ago. The memories are old and vague but still bad enough to make him stifle a whimper before it makes its way out of his throat.

He isn’t gagged and he takes advantage of it, grabbing a mouthful of flesh and grinding his teeth down with all his might until he tastes blood through the thin shirt of his captor. The man curses loudly in a language Dave doesn’t understand and jerks him hard, grinding his broken ribs together and smashing his bruised face violently against the hard expanse of muscles, dislodging his teeth and forcing a breathless his of pain from him.

There is a loud creak as a door opened, a softly whimpered, “Who’s there?” and then Dave is unceremoniously dumped onto a cold stone floor. His head takes the brunt of the impact and he struggles weakly, fighting to stay conscious, almost missing the clank of the door swinging shut behind him.  It’s then that his stomach makes itself known and he rolls over onto his hands and knees to gag violently, spitting a mouthful of sour bile to the floor, his ribs screaming in protest.

“Um… Are you ok,” comes a timid voice, accompanied by movement; the sound of fabric rustling in the dark.

He jerks away from the first touch of gentle hands on his face but forces himself to relax when they return a second time to shakily remove his blindfold. Dave slowly opens his eyes, mindful that he doesn’t have his sunglasses, ready to close them again if it’s bright enough to blind him.

He needn’t bother. It’s murky and dim, underground somewhere with the way all the sounds are muffled. A dark haired boy with an overbite and glasses is looking at him and biting his lip in a worried expression.  He seems to suddenly become aware of Dave’s state of undress and looks away with a start; focusing his eyes to a spot above Dave’s head. Dave snorts and then winces at the pain that flares in his nose, bringing his hands up with a clink a chain to gingerly inspect the break.

Dave’s cellmate makes a soft noise and pulls his fingers away from his nose. “That looks pretty bad. You probably shouldn’t touch it.”

“Is it crooked?”

“Well, yeah but you shouldn-oh,” the boy starts as Dave grips his nose and slides the bone back into place with a muted snap.

“How about now?”

The boy’s skin has taken on an ashen sheen. “It- It looks fine.”

Dave settled into a position that alleviate as much pressure on his ribs as possible, tracing one finger lightly down the bridge of his dully throbbing nose just to check before moving his hands to gently press against his ribs. There wasn’t much that could be done about broken ribs, even with proper medical supplies, but he was curious about the extent of the damage. “So, you gonna tell me your name?”

“John.” John gave him a watery smile that was all buck teeth and innocence and it pained Dave to see it.

He grimaced. “John, huh?”  Dave abandoned his ribs and settled his hands in his lap, covering his nakedness casually. “So what brings you to this cell, John?”

“I was helping my dad cook dinner and some slavers attacked us. He sent me to go hide with my sister but someone hit me on the head and I woke up here.” He frowned. “I’m pretty sure my dad got my sister away though, ‘cause they’re not here.”

Dave didn’t have the energy to splatter his delusions all over the stone floor so he stayed silent, observing the boy in front of him. He could see the details on the grubby rags that had probably once been pretty nice, though rustic clothing that indicated that his new pal John was most likely from one of the outlying colonies. Not that he had ever been there, or outside in general really, but Dave knew a lot of things he didn’t remember learning.

“What’s your name?” John asked, scooting closer with a rattle of chains.

“Dave.”

He scooted closer still, one of his knees nudging Dave in the hip as he leaned closer to him. “Dave?”

Dave made an affirming noise in his throat. His eyes finally cleared from the hit to his head enough to see the rest of the cell. He could also see John biting his lip nervously. His nervousness reminded Dave of Tavros and he tried to curb his thoughts away from the last time he saw his troll bro: being dragged, unconscious, across the floor after being bought from the brothel owner.

The troll with cracked glasses that had bought Tavros has, upon paying for him, wrapped a towel around his hand and then used that hand to grip the back of Tavros’s neck until he slumped in his chair with a breathless whimper. The troll was muttering about how useless and filthy Tavros was as he used the towel wrapped hand to drag Tavros out of his chair by one of his horns.

Dave could only watch as Tavros’s neck was bent at a painful angle as the troll dragged him across the greeting area to the front door, his atrophied legs trailing behind his limp body.

He shuddered as he banished the disturbing memories and realized that John was touching his face. He ignored the urge to recoil. “What are you doing?”

“You’re bleeding.” John delicately wiped the blood from under his nose with a torn sleeve. His fingers were cold and his gentle touch felt pretty good against his throbbing face. Dave’s eyes drifted up to John’s head and noticed the scabbed over gash almost hidden in his hair.

“How long have you been here, John?”

John frowned, his lips forming a pout. “I don’t know, a few days maybe. It’s hard to tell- There’s no windows.”

Dave remained silent as he looked out through the bars of their cell to a sign affixed to the wall. “Can you read Alternian?”

“Can I read what now?”

“Troll, John. Can you read troll?”

“Oh, no. You can?”

Dave could do a lot of things. “Yes.”

Dave ignored John going on about how cool it was that he knew troll and turned away from the sign proclaiming that they were located in the pleasure slave block.

“Are you a virgin, John?”

 

\---

 

The first thing Tavros was aware of when he woke was pain. His neck felt wrenched and someone had apparently tried to part his horn from his skull. He heard a soft beeping keeping time with his bloodpusher. It took him several tries to open his ganderbulbs; someone had obviously pumped him full of muscle relaxants.

He was stuffed into a slave transport box, the interior dark and calming- though slightly claustrophobic. He had been in one before so he didn’t panic much. It was impossible to panic in the box anyway; the machine would kick in and take several steps to render him calm – to keep the slave in optimal condition upon delivery. The transports were only utilized by the wealthy; normally masters wouldn’t pay the extra money to ensure that a slave didn’t harm themselves during transport.

His arms were secured to the bottom of the box by his sides, a strap around his chest kept him from shifting. His useless legs were folded to his chest and held there, his feet pressed flat to the end of the box opposite his head. His head was pillowed but straps around his horns and neck kept him in place. There were tubes in his nose, helping him breathe and a gag in his mouth to keep him quiet (and from swallowing his own tongue, probably). He could feel an IV in each arm and one in the back of his right hand. Through his slitted ganderbulbs Tavros could see another IV in his thigh that he could barely feel if he really concentrated.

His gaze drifted to his reflection in the mirrored top of the box and to his injured horn. He whimpered behind his gag as it gave a throb of pain now that his attention was on it and the darkened hand print on it. Horns were like teeth in the fact that they were hollow enough to fit a vein and a few nerves. Horns were alive, just like teeth, and when they would get crushed or broken, they would bleed and bruise.

Someone with a very strong grip had partially crushed his horn. Tavros’s eyes pricked with tears.  His horn would heal, slowly but if his new master had already injured him and they weren’t even to his new home yet then Tavros probably wouldn’t live long. And he didn’t want to die.

The machine monitoring his bloodpusher sped up as he began to panic. The box dimmed further and pumped him full of sedatives so fast that he got dizzy and his thinkpan fuzzed. The tubes in his nose pumped deep breaths into his breath sacs and he slumped against his restraints. His last lingering thought before the sedatives swept him under was that he missed Dave.

 

\---

 

Tavros dreamed about the day that he was selected to serve in Her Emperial Condense's army. It was a pretty normal day. He had just finished practicing strifing and was deciding whether to eat or rinse off in his ablution trap first when the door to his hive had burst in. At first he thought the drones were there to cull him. Tinkerbull urged him to hide but he wasn't fast enough. They caught them both.

They started reading out the order that he was to serve in the army and he was relieved, because he didn't want to die and maybe he could manage to stay alive on the battlefield. Tinkerbull was proud of him, he could tell. 

They wouldn't let him take any of his things, just dragged him through the door. He looked back to wave goodbye to Tinkerbull and saw them rip his wings off and crush him to death with unrelented metal appendages. 

His mind shied away from the graphic imagery and emotional trigger of that memory and presented him of one on the battlefield.

He'd been assigned to an armored fighting front-line combat vehicle because it had been decided that he was too clumsy to be a footsoldier. Even though he had to put his head through the hatch at the top of the vehicle sideways to accomidate his horns, he found he quite liked his position.

The Vehicle Commander wouldn't let him drive and would constantly berate him but he was comfortable enough to complete his task of loading the guns. The gunner yelled at him a lot too but he yelled everything he said and it was almost funny listening to his swearing and his metaphors get out of hand. He told Tavros once that he had worked his way up to a being gunner from being a sniper and that being inside the armoured vehicle was like a pleasant walk through a lush green public relaxation area in comparison. That made Tavros relieved that he hadn't been chosen for that position. 

The driver was a strange girl, with a slightly nerve-wracking, morbid obsession with death. She was always kind to Tavros but she seldom said things to him that made much sense. She talked about time in a way that mostly just confused Tavros.

Karkat, the gunner, told him that she used to be a lowblood anti-vehicle mine. He explained that the troll would be armed with one or two sticky explosives and would be expected to crawl underneath armored vehicles like their's and stick the explosive to the underside. The death rate of these trolls was almost 100% because it was hard to time it right to pass between the treads to get at the underbelly wthout getting crushed and to get far enough away before the explosives detonated. Karkat said that he didn't know how Aradia had managed to get a promotion but he thought that it meant she had succeeded many times and seen a lot of things that couldn't be unseen.

Tavros remembered loading the improperly formed ammo into the gun even though he tried- he _tried_  - to tell the commander that it wasn't the right shape, that there was something wrong with it. The commander wouldn't hear it and Karkat was yelling at him to " _SHUT THE HELL UP I'M TRYING TO AIM YOU FUCKING MORON."_

Then he was on the ground and he couldn't hear anything and everything was moving slower than it should. The commander was looking at him and then everything was moving at normal speed again and that wasn't the commander, not really, just his face, a flap of skin with features and he giggled madly as Karkat appeared next to him, covered in blood- pretty pretty red- and grit, swearing and yelling -though he couldn't hear him, he could tell from his wide open mouth- and grabbing his arm to drag him bodily out of the open and behind the smoking remnants of the armored vehicle. 

Tavros tried to help but he couldn't seem to get his legs under him to stand and why was it so quiet anyway because he could see the charges going off around him and they should be loud enough to make his auricular sponge clots want to bleed. Aradia was a little ways further behind the armored vehicle waiting for them but what a weird time to take a nap Aradia- get up get up getup getup getupgetupgetupgetupgetup. She didn't move and Karkat was all but sitting on Tavros to keep him from getting up and dragging her over to them because she's still in the line of fire and she's going to be okay so she needs to not get shot. 

Tavros knocks him off and tries to get up but it doesn't work. He looks at Karkat and he's scowling and trying not to look at Tavros's legs because they're mangled and Tavros _can't even feel them._

His mind wanders to his decommission as a soldier because of his stupid, useless legs, showing him bits and pieces of various memories. He's sure that he'll be culled and is surprised when he gets sold to a high-end brothel instead. No one will tell him anything but he hears a rumor that a higher up requested his transfer. He wonders if that's true and who would do that for him, he's never met a highblood before- his commander was a jadeblood, the highest on the spectrum he'd known and he was dead now anyway. 

He meets Dave. No clients request him because he's too inexperienced and Dave teaches him. Dave knows everything because Dave has been doing this for a very long time and that makes sense to Tavros because Dave is so pretty and so pitiful and by the end Tavros pities Dave so much. 

His mind is quick to remind him that Dave is gone, probably forever.

_\---_

Dave watches John sputter for a few moments, feeling a grin twitch the corners of his lips but he forces it down because he is not going to get attached. They are going to take John away so he is not going to like John more than is required to save his life. ~~It doesn't matter that it feels like he aleady does.~~  

Because there is no way that John isn't a virgin and troll don't want virgins, they want someone who knows what they're doing and humans don't usually buy pleasure slaves. 

John finally comes up with, "I've uh, kissed a girl before."

"Gogdamnit." Is all Dave can say because jegus christ how can someone still be so untouched at their age and he has his work cut out for him. He tries to take a deep breath but his ribs quickly dismiss breathing in more than shallow pants as a very bad idea. 

John made a nervous noise, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. "It's not like you've done more, right?"

"Of course I have," Dave snapped. "I've been doing this shit for as long as I can remember." John gaped at him and Dave made himself keep his normal flat tone of voice. "Look, I don't know how to put this gently so I'm just going to say it. You see that sign over there? -We're in the pleasure slave block and virgins don't sell. They put us together because they expect me to - fuck, initiate you or something, as the experienced whore or whatever. So, I'm... going to have to do things to you, John."

"But I'm not a homosexual." Like he had a choice.

"They don't care. They're going to fuck you and they couldn't give a shit how you feel about it." Dave's voice was resigned. John looked like he was about to cry. "I'm going to do my best to help you with this, okay? You're going to have all the tools you need to stay alive and not get beat on too much. Just calm down. We've got some time."

"Look, it's late- I think it's late, feels late- so just go to sleep and we'll talk more in the morning." John looked at him apprehensively and Dave rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to molest you in your sleep. I can't do anything with the nose and ribs anway, so you're safe from deflowering for a while." 

He still looked like he was going to burst into tears but less frantic, and he pulled off his ragged tunic and offered it to Dave. Dave took it more for John's sake than his own, he could tell that his nakedness was even more upsetting now then it was before. The tunic was roomy and too long and covered him decently enough and he nodded his thanks.

John spent a few moments wringing his hands before curling himself into a ball on the floor, pillowing his head with his hands.

Dave leaned back against the wall and dozed for a while when he woke again, John had scooted over and pressed the length of his back to his hip and thigh. Dave gently pet his hair and cursed whoever was in charge of the fates of whores that it was always him who had to rip into the innocent. He was tired, so tired, of this repeated cycle- endless clients and bruises and not feeling. He would make John live, get him the best troll owner that passed by their cell. 

He had seen the broken ones at the places he was before. They had given up and were just pieces of meat and the owners still laid them on beds and let the lowbloods at them because that was all they were good for until they starved to death. He didn't want that for John or for himself. They needed to avoid the brothels and get single owners, that was the only was the best way to live this life.

He mentally shuddered at the thought of touching John that way. He didn't want to when John was so obviously against it and so terrified. He pushed those feelings down and reminded himself over and over again what would happen if John went somewhere like he was now. He had a few days before his nose wasn't too tender to give suck and he would spend those days making John as comfortable as possible with all this. 

He was pretty sure they'd give him at least a week and a half before trying to sell John, so he didn't have time to wait until he was totally healed, that would take a few weeks at least. 

His head jerked up to look at his jailer as he slid a tray through the slot in the bars. Food and drink, some cleaning oil and a few rags. John whimpers a little in his sleep and Dave makes a soothing noise and ignores the tray. It's not there if he doesn't look at it.

 


	2. Body Horror

Your name is Karkat and you're not entirely sure about this. It just doesn't feel right.  
It’s not like he has a choice though.  
He can't fuck this up again, not after all Gamzee did to get him here, get him safe. (Awesome moirail, so pale for that crazy clown douche, so so pale.) And he is safe, for the most part, as long as he doesn't give Vriska a legitimate reason to cull him or the empire a reason to poke too closely at his illegally edited files.  
He just had to lie low, do what was expected of someone in his military position. Gamzee and Terezi had pretty much robbed Vriska of any expectations of her killing him just because she feels like it and then going on to live a long and fruitful life, even with her luck. He's not sure if Terezi is doing it because she likes him alive or just because as Vriska's kismesis she wants to annoy Vriska by being as contrary as possible.  
Gamzee warned him that he would be expected to get a slave when he forced his promotion. And now Vriska was pressuring him to get one on top of that expectation, in the most lewd way possible that makes him flush red on the top of his ears. "You need to get pailed Karkat."  
She has other motives of course. If the empire discovers Karkat's deception it's likely that as his direct superior that she will be culled along with him.  
"Chart your course- actually nevermind, I'll send it directly to your helmsman, you can't fly for shit. Wouldn't want you to get lost." She winks and then cackles. "I think I'll get myself a present too. Something nice and new." She doesn't glance at her current slave huddled in the corner of the meeting room. "Something unmarked."  
Karkat forces back a wince at her words and sneaks a glance at the brown blood shivering in the corner, all made of bones and bruises; welts and burns.  
She turns to the slave and motions it through the entrance of her private block. "Come along, precious," she coos. "Let's see how many screams you have left for me."  
She glances back over her shoulder at Karkat. "You're dismissed. I'll see you when we arrive at our destination."  
He forces himself to not break out into a sprint as soon as he's out of her sight, focusing on striding purposely but calmly. There are other trolls on Vriska's ship, he always has to be careful. He flees to his own significantly smaller vessel.  
His helmsman slams the doors shut behind him just as soon as he's clear of them, almost shutting on the back of his shirt in his rush. He hears the bridge between the two ships withdrawing quickly behind him, just a few steps behind him the entire time until he reaches his own ship and the only door to the outside slams shut, the bridge locks in place and several locking mechanisms engage to discourage uninvited guests.  
His helmsman is paranoid as fuck and the perfect match for him because of it- an old battleship that was decommissioned, he was due to be turned into fertilizer for the culling fields until Gamzee snatched him up and messed with his paperwork.  
Having controlled the system for a ship over 100 times larger than Karkat's makes his current system child's play. He spends most of his time listening in on top secret military broadcasts and chatting with other helmsman right under their captain's noses. Karkat lets him do what he wants for the most part. In the months since they were placed together they've become pretty good friends.  
"What do you think about all this, Sirvai?" karkat asked, settling himself into the navigators chair, though he had no intention of taking the controls.  
One of the view screens blacked out, words scrolling over it quickly.  
"It's going to be hard finding someone smaller than you."  
Karkat bristled. "Asshole. Whatever, I need to go over some paperwork. Every time I think I'm getting close to the end of that giant stack Vriska dumps more of the stuff she's supposed to do into my inbox."  
He got up from the swivel chair and left the control room, taking a seat at his desk and getting down to work.  
\---  
John wakes with a soft grunt and immediately lifts his glasses from his face and rubs the sleep from his eyes. He pauses when he realizes that he's pressed up close to Dave and jams his glasses back onto his face, scrambling away and stumbling over apologies. He snaps his mouth shut when he notices Dave hasn’t moved.  
He’s propped up against the wall, hands folded over on his stomach and breathing so softly that John can’t even tell he’s breathing except for the minuet rise and fall of his chest. His pale eyelashes are soft against his relaxed face and so light colored they are almost transparent. His face is rounder when he’s asleep, shaped almost like a girl’s, with soft cheekbones and pouty pink lips.  
John flushes, even if he is a boy and even with the dark bruises and dried blood; he is very pretty.  
But in a no homo way though.  
Totally no homo.  
Just one bro admiring another bro.  
John shivers; its cold without his shirt and without Dave’s radiating warmth. He scoots back over and leans against the wall just close enough to stop the shivering. Closing his eyes he listens for Dave’s soft, even breaths. The comforting rhythm soon puts him back to sleep.  
\--  
This time it’s Dave who wakes up. John has moved from the floor to the wall, still pressed against him. It’s even colder now; he can see wisps of his breath. He’s glad for john’s shirt but… “Christ, I think my balls are frozen to the floor.” He mutters as he slowly flexes his legs off the floor to check.  
John makes a noise like “mwahaa??” and breathes heavily against his shoulder. The warm, wet air barges through the thin fabric and then his eyes flutter open and he sits bolt upright, already spewing apologies, red in the face.  
Dave is holding his balls and just staring at him with a blank face. “Nice nips bro.” John slams his hands over his cold-pointed nipples, turns even redder and makes a choked squeaky noise and Dave has to fight hard to suppress a laugh, merely smirking.  
“No offense to your no homo bro but get back over here and give me some snuggles it’s cold as shit.”  
John hesitantly scooted back over, pressing his side to Dave’s. “It’s not gay to share body heat Dave, don’t be dumb.”  
Dave snorted. “Touching shoulders is so gay dude. I’ve taken your gay shoulder virginity. Now no one will marry you. Don’t worry I’ll take responsibility for soiling your maidenhood.”  
“Oh my god Dave you are so dumb. The dumbest. Shut your dumb mouth and let me sleep already.” John smiled and laid his head back against the wall, shutting his eyes.  
\--  
Your name is Gamzee and he's all you ever wanted. But you can’t let anyone know that, not ever. You’re in such a bad place right now. Nothing is safe, nobody and you aint gonna bring that down on your main motherfucker.  
You’re not so smart; in fact you’re dumb as shit, as the highblood done often say but you got friends as what take care of you: your hatefriend Terezi who’s gone off learning the laws and them two fishy friends, each to their own ship now. Tell you what to say and be all sneaky like and get what you want without nobody knowing. You can mess with the files and rearrange shit easy. All you gotta do is go down to the helmsblock and yell at the technicians until they scuttle out and then it’s all a matter of talking all sweet at the helmsman. That’s ok he’s got no dislike towards you but towards your ancestor that trapped him in there a whole ton so he changes files for you if you unlock some parts of the ship to him. You think you’d let him out if he asked but then remember that he told you once that’d kill him, it’s been too long. Time’s tricky like that.  
You first saw him right after you met your karbro. You were all visiting military bases on planet and strolled through the sickward by accident. Maybe not so on accident. You might’ve been looking for some sopor. The highblood had just taken you off cold and you’d been hurtin something fierce and in a wicked place.  
You don’t remember much, all kind of hazy pain and memories that don’t want to be found but you maybe threatened one of those healer type ladies and threw her through a wall. But she got you good that bitch, almost got your eye and you’d been snarling and crouching and bleeding and karkat was just there and going shoosh shoosh so sweet like and. It was serendipity.  
You’d done spent almost that whole rest of the night jamming and just laying together in the pile in your temporary respite block. Karkat had been injured but had sewed himself up on the battlefield, the perfect little trooper and hadn’t let anyone near that neat little bandage because his veins were filled with miracles.  
And he was worried, so worried that he’d been found out so you just went nope and took him with you off planet. And he was worried about his troop mate who was a cripple now, on the cull list. You noped that right up too and had him transferred. You didn’t really specify to the helmsman where to put him, just somewhere safe. You hooked up Karbro with some sweet digs and a safe position under Terezi’s blackmate. You didn’t want him to go away but it wasn’t safe with you. Wasn’t safe at all. Vid chats for now, y’all get by but you miss his warm little hands.  
You didn’t remember the cute little brown with the big soft eyes until later and when you checked up on him he was in a not so good place. Brothels ain’t nice right? You’ve never been to one. And they aint never fixed him up when he broke his legs. So you got your helper bro to go get him for you.  
It’s still not safe here for anybody you want to keep but. You can pretend now. Get your lie on pretty good.  
So you just sort of watch. You watch as he’s brought in inside that hellbox and brought to medical. And the highblood wants to know that night what he’s for and you just smile and let him get his own twisted know on. He makes a face like he can think of a few cruel things and asks you if you’ll be taking the ritual tomorrow. You’ve been dodging that for a while but it’s a good way to get his mind off it so you say yeah sure bro.  
You don’t get to read the walls of angry turned worried text Karkat’s left you until it’s done and wow it’s been a week already. Those days were slippery out of your reach and between your legs feels hot and achy and tight and wrong wrong wrong and. You don’t go visit the brownblood but you think about it while you lay in your pile instead of your coon because sopor stings the wound and try not to cry.  
\--  
The first thing you’re aware of when you wake up next is a bright whiteness that stings your eyes. You’re out of the transport box and laid out and strapped to a table facedown. Someone is picking at your spine with something and it burns whitehot bright searing pain through you whole body. You try to cry out but you can’t- more drugs?- can’t even move a finger where it rests near your auricular sponge clots but you can feel everything.  
It’s awful. You don’t know where you are or who’s got their hands deep into the meat of your back or why and this is just the worst. They don’t say anything and you can’t ask, can’t open your mouth to make more noise than a whimper. Eventually you pass out from the pain and that’s a blessing.  
\--  
It’s daytime now (you think?) and the guard took away your empty food bowls and you are totally going to kiss that boy. You woke up curled together and you held his hand while he blushed and stuttered and tried to take it back all through mealtime. Now you’ve moved closer and closer to him and he backed away until he was scrunched into a corner staring at you with wide eyes that pleaded with you please don’t.  
“Close your eyes bro.”  
He makes a soft scared noise but does as you say and you rub your thumb over the back of his hand. You move your face in closer to his, breath lightly over his lips and he scrunches his eyes closed tight, turns his face away.  
You use your free hand to turn his face towards you. “shoosh, its ok. I won’t hurt you.”  
You lightly press your lips to his, then again more firmly. You run a hand through his hair, trying to sooth him and he grips tight to the hand intertwined with his.  
After a few more pecks he starts to relax and his lips move against yours though his grip on your hand doesn’t loosen and his eyes remain closed. You run your tongue along the seam of his lips and he opens to you with a shudder. You coax him into the deeper kiss, tonguing the roof of his mouth and the line of his teeth. He opens his eyes a crack and starts as though he forgot you were there (probably imagining a girl that doofus that doesn’t sting your feelings at all) and tries to backpedal. You grip the side of his face firmly with your free hand and follow his mouth, not letting him break the kiss. Eventually you move away from his mouth, nibbling his lip on the way to his ear before giving him some attention there.  
His breath hitches and his free hand that had previously be lying limp next to him grabs the front of your (his) shirt. You pause, thinking he’s going to push you away and not wanting to bang your sore as shit nose during any sudden movements but he just sighs shakily and tangles his fingers in the folds of the fabric, hangs on tight, so you continue licking and lightly dragging your teeth against the sensitive skin around the whorl of his ear.  
He seems to be relaxing by slow inches against the wall behind him, his spine softening. You move onto his neck and bite him harder there. He gasps and his hips make an aborted twitch against you. You press your half folded leg up tight to his crotch and he goes still all over. You pull away from his neck to look up at his face and he’s crying, soundless little hitches of breath as tears stream from his eyes.  
You pull away and he sobs once, squeezing his eyes shut, causing more tears to escape. “Oh no bro. No no no shhh it’s ok. It’s fine.” And you gather him up against you, hugging him tight and rubbing his back.  
“I’m gross.” He sobs hot and wet against your neck. “I’m disgusting. This is gross.”  
“Wow way to ruin a guy’s self-esteem. I’m hurt John, I’m really hurt. This is gross. Geez let me go crawl back into my hole of grossness.” You deadpan at him like he hasn’t hurt your feelings as you continue to rub his back.  
“No, I mean… I just don’t… I’m not a homosexual Dave. You’re fine. I get why we have to do this it’s just so hard.” He’s still crying and working himself up. He takes a deep shuddering breath and holds it for a few beats. “Just do it.” He finally says, sounding completely defeated.  
“You killed my boner, John. It’s dead.”  
He scrambles away to look down at your crotch and then realizes what he’s doing and looks away, face red and blotchy. “So does that mean…”  
“Come here.” You say and reach out for him away, settling him in the v of your legs, facing away from you. You cradle him in your arms and tilt his head back against your shoulder. He starts to struggle away when you go for his pants but you hold him tight against you, shooshing him but continuing on.  
When you grip him in your hand he’s gone mostly soft but you set up a gentle but pleasing pace that has him firming up again in no time. You move your legs over his to hold him down and use your freed hand to cup his balls, rolling them in your fingers softly.  
“You’re fingers are cold.” He complains softly, staring at the ceiling and thumps his back against your chest in protest.  
It squeezes the air out of you in a burst of pain. “Watch the ribs you little shit.” You wheeze and he makes a noise you can’t decipher, like a laugh coming out of him in reverse.  
You speed up your movements, gripping him harder. He’s producing enough slick that it’s easier to move your hand across his warm skin now and he’s breathing out hard through his nose in a way that probably means he’s close.  
He finally lets out a soft grunt and comes all over your hand. He goes completely boneless and slack against you and refuses to watch as you lick your hand clean and then do up his pants. You curl up against him on the floor and he takes your hand again.  
“That’ll do pig.” You pat his head. “That’ll do.”  
“You’re a stupid weirdo.” He mutters into your chest.  
You stay curled together like that, drifting between asleep and awake for a few hours.  
\--  
You show very reluctantly show Karkat what they’ve done to your nook the next time you video chat. You’ve never been very body shy but something about what’s been done to you makes you feel ashamed.  
You don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to feel about it. While it was happening they were all saying shit about cleanliness of soul and sacrifice to the gods but you don’t feel very clean nor holy. You feel dirty and wrong and it hurts.  
You’ve been hobbling around for the past few nights with the wrong tightness of it and the highblood had smacked you on the back and laughed at your tenderness, your inability to spread your legs very far.  
They’d tied you down and spread you open and filled you with something that felt like stinging insects, like fire and you had screamed and screamed. Then they’d sewn you shut.  
You’ve started to heal now, your nook walls aren’t stuck together with blood no more, you could feel the scabs tearing apart anytime you moved the first two nights. The stitches will stay in forever, they told you. You’re sacrifice to the mirthful messiahs.  
You wonder if the highblood has them. You guess he probably does.  
Karkat is horrified. He cries and you shoosh him and smile and tell him it’s not that bad but he knows you’re lying and you both end up crying for a good part of your video session. He makes you promise to take care of yourself.  
He makes you promise something else too. Something worse. Something dark. Something heretical. You can’t even think about it without getting all nervous. Like the highblood can hear you thinking about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't write Gamzee for shit oops. I had the first little drabble part hanging out on my desktop for like a year and today I was supposed to be working on my book but procrastination reigned so I sat down and finished this chapter on the fly instead. Sorry if it sucks. I can't really remember where I was going with this story except I wanted to torture everyone so. Here. Enjoy.

**Author's Note:**

> -This is probably going to be really slow to update. Like glacial. Just a heads up. This is because that this is my "I don't particularly give a fuck" story. Many things go along with this, some of them are fun, none of them are canon. XD  
> -So, yeah, this story is just me typing and typing and typing, then reading it over once and posting so keep that in mind while reading, I guess. Or something.  
> -Also, I keep switching tenses and I'm too lazy to go back and fix it. Sorry.


End file.
